Nine Tales
by Kavaul
Summary: Once upon a time. . ." The fox's voice echoed, half-whispering to himself in the dampness and gloom of his chambers. "There was a fox. . ."
1. The First Tale

**Kavaul – If I owned Naruto, I would kidnap the Kyuubi to have as my pet and glomp him daily. And Naruto too. What does that say about my sanity?**

**Prologue.**

"Once upon a time. . ." The fox half-whispered reassurances of his past to himself in the dampness and gloom of his chambers, pausing to take in the 'home' of the Fox Lord with a snort, a half-smile quirking up one blackened lip strangely. "There was a fox. . ."

The fox lay down with a colossal thump, grinning and his teeth reflecting the pale, artificial light from the sewers. He mumbled, humming indistinctly, "Don't look at me now; I have nothing left to show. . ." He half-sang, half-mumbled the phrase that had darted through his mind.

But no one was there to hear him, so the Kyuubi shifted himself, taking a shuddering breath as if readying himself to pull the truth out, strand by painful strand. "Once upon a time. . ."

But then, how was he supposed to know that a small, scrawny child with blonde hair near stained brown with grime and dirt, with painfully honest blue eyes, was listening?

"In the beginning, of course, born in the patchwork lands that were scarred and scorched by Demon flame and fury, the great Fox Lord Kyuubi was a small, wriggly fox-child, with one tail and red fuzz growing over pinkish skin. He was not born as the great Lord Kyuubi, as we all know.

He constantly gnawed on things, though, which was quite normal for a fox kit, but he always did little strange things.

For example, perhaps, his senses overlapped in a way that scent became vivid colors flashing through his mind's eye, sight melding into sound, and so on and so forth. But they ignored all of these, and the small, squirmy fox kit grew and grew and grew.

This is the Fox Lord's first tale, and it would do well for you to lend an ear. Perhaps you may know of this, perhaps you may have not.

Our first story begins underneath the bare, blackened tendrils that extend from the trunk, branches only in the vaguest sense, more like long twigs that clattered and scratched against each other.

The fox kit is almost as old as the turn of the century, and he still does not know of the dangers that lurk beyond the Wall, a tall and towering wall made of stone and earth, roots hanging out from cracks haphazardly, clinging on. It is far too tall, and simply too _massive_ to allow the adventurous Demon to climb it.

The Tree is near the Wall, and the small fox-child is waiting at the base of the charred tree. He has not yet grown out of his residual baby fat—After all, it takes rather a lot more centuries to grow out of the puppy fat that clings to him.

The fox is waiting—hesitating—and then Wolf comes.

Fox does not like Wolf very much, of course, because Wolf is always too happy all the time, his lips curving in an ever-malicious grin. But Wolf is older than Fox, and he knows this, and this is why Fox tolerates Wolf.

Wolf grins, tilting his head and releasing a breathy, taunting giggle. But then, even the breathy giggle comes out as raspy and harsh and hysterical.

He tells Fox, that sorrow is the funniest thing ever.

The fox-kit does not understand, because joy is what causes laughter, and laughter is happiness, and sorrow is the opposite of happiness. Wolf tells Fox, in a chiding tone and looking for all the world like Fox should know it, that Fox can only know of the hilarity of sorrow when he is drowning in insanity.

Fox smiles, without malicious intent or any real joy, rather satisfaction upon finding the answer to his problem, delighted that it was solved.

Wolf giggles again, and then races off. Fox follows."

The tanned boy sucks in a breath that he doesn't know that he was holding, listening to the story. His eyes find a dark corner to linger on, stretching with a languid grace.

The Hokage would have been horrified to find that he'd been listening to the Fox tell it's story.

That is, of course, disregarding the fact that he'd found the Voice's story far more interesting than the history class at the Academy.


	2. The Second Tale

It was a sunny day in the village of Konoha – sunlight streamed through the carefully-cultivated shadows, filling the corners

**I**t was a sunny day in the village of Konoha – sunlight streamed through the carefully-cultivated shadows, filling the corners and nooks and crannies with a warm, gentle light. Naruto dozed, lingering on the borderline between awareness and sleep, sitting on a tree branch.

He felt like something was growing, and stretching, and it made him feel _old_, like the world was changing. Day turned to night quickly, though, and he still sat, eyes half-lidded and the blue luminous in the darkness.

Even the crickets didn't dare chirp at night, around the Hidden Village, but the owls didn't really care all too much of the cricket's opinions.

And this is why one perched itself on Naruto's head and made itself comfortable, unknowing of what was occurring in the young pariah's mind. Or, rather, his stomach.

Deep inside his mindscape, claws clicked against the cold steel of the floor. The fox peered restlessly into a small, shallow pool that loitered in a corner, unseen unless you were looking for it. Kyuubi's eyes darted over to the bars, and teeth glowed in the darkness.

"What's this? What's this?" The sewers of Naruto's mind parroted back, 'What's this? What's this?' impeccably. The fox sat down by the pool, tails forming a protective circle around it, as if something would disrupt it.

On a whim, he broke into hysterical laughter, rising from the pool to lurch against the bars, which creaked in protest. Blue flashed to a vibrant red, unknown to the owner's eyes, and the ninetails slid down to stare at the hallways beyond the bars.

He began in a whisper, like last time, because he'd buried these memories long, long ago, and when he did, it was deep – and grabbing hold of the truth, for the very first time – a motherly voice, speaking in his own native language that made human's ears bleed, _'nomorelies.'_

"Wolf was a . . . good teacher. And the fox-kit grew, and shed the layers of baby fat, and then he became a fighter. Wolf, the last time they'd sparred, had gotten a deep wound on his hind leg, and the pure, sheer hysteria in his laughter cut through the air and sank into his ears as he limped away.

"You see, he hadn't gotten his second tail yet – it was a barely-formed stub on his rump, right next to his proudly-earned first – you know, some Demons didn't even have _one_ tail. The fox-kit went in search for his mother, but – get this!"

Hysteria set in, and he laughed and laughed for the next few minutes, and the sound pierced his ears and heart and made them bleed but he kept laughing.

"Did you know? Demons have no –hahahahaha – mothers; they are bastard sons," He spat out the word, tails lashing behind him, "Of the Earth and the energy of a dead Demon, born by the Earth and Stone and Fire and made by the dead– never to know – _love_. But – our Demonling didn't know this, you know. . .

"Wolf came with him. One day, the fox-kit asked Wolf what a mother was, though. Wolf had looked thoughtful for a few moments, and answered, 'A mother is there to . . . yesyesyes! I know! Make you – _more_ powerful, and – and – they die and protect you and – kill you if you do something wrong!'

"You see, Wolf had been to the Human Realm once or twice, in the guise of a too-pale boy with too-dark hair and eyes. His fur had always been covered with tattoos and art, and even then, his human form drew. Later on, he lost himself in the Human traditions, after his mate died, and we never saw him again.

"Wolf was my – his first and last friend, you know. Anyway, the Not-Kitling had gazed up at Wolf in a sort of awe, and they'd continued on. They did find an old and ancient Demon that lived in a cave, and many, many things that reached beyond the imagination to just describe.

"But the Fox did not find his mother, but he did learn the meaning of love by loving something that didn't exist. And there, he earned his second Tail, and learned never to love again, because Mothers didn't exist in the Demon Realms, and there was _no time_ for love when there was eternal war and blood and fighting.

"He learned to give up on pretty dreams, because in the Demon Realms, you had no time for them, and if you did, you would _die._"

The owl fled with the coming of dawn, and the sleepy, but satisfied five (and a half) year old stirred, clambering down from the tree, red eyes exploding in a swirl of purple and red and turning to blue again.

All in all, it had been a wonderful story for the summer.

Now, just to go to the Old Man to ask him what a 'bastard' was.

(He'd sputtered and flailed helplessly in his chair, and then told him to ask Iruka-sensei. This elicited the same reaction, and when they'd asked him who'd told him the word, he'd shrugged, getting the gnawing feeling inside of him again, like he was being spread too thin.)

(Naruto, as a cure, went and devoured an unholy amount of Ramen. On Iruka and the Old Man's account, of course.)


End file.
